Violet Eyed Apocalypse ~ Leila (California)

I was stretched out over the blue striped beach towel, tanning my already bronze skin. I picked at a string on my floral sundress, listening to the sounds of kids laughing and dogs barking.

The salty air stung my eyes behind my over-sized sunglasses. I observed the family to my left, while texting my boyfriend, Robby. They seemed so perfect, out of a book or a movie. The woman, obviously pregnant, rubbed light circles against the maroon material covering her belly. Her daughter, maybe four or five, with blond curls and bright blue eyes, was carving castles into the sand. Not more than six feet away, a man in green cargo shorts and reading glasses threw a red Frisbee to a smaller boy, who looked about nine and identical to the little girl, right down to the locks of curls in his hair. A golden retriever scampered at their feet.

I pushed my sunglasses up on top of my blonde-haired head, turning to the pregnant mother. “When are you due?” I asked curiously. It wasn’t like me to strike up a random conversation with strangers, but Robby wasn’t due for another half hour, there had been an accident and he was jammed in traffic.

She smiled a toothy grin, presenting her dazzling white teeth and held up two fingers. “Two more months until little Abigail arrives.”

“It’s a girl?” I cooed, slightly jealous at how happy the woman’s life looked. It was truly perfect.

“Yeah,” she breathed, looking up at me. “Do you have children?”

And that little question spiraled me back to a distant memory, seven years ago, I was only sixteen. My boyfriend Joel and I had been sleeping together for several months. We always remembered to use a condom, and I assured myself that I would never get pregnant. But the worst happened. The condom broke and, later, I took a pregnancy test. Positive. The next nine months had been hell. Joel left, and I couldn’t locate where he went, I later found out he moved to Oregon. Before the baby was born, I signed papers, giving her to an adoption agency. And when it was born, I followed through with the contract. But I got one look at the small babe, and I couldn’t control myself, I instantly fell in love. I watched as they took the baby away, all along, I had been crying, wishing I could take back the signature I had penned on the papers. She was a beautiful baby girl.

I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “Never.”

The woman turned to her daughter. “Mariah, how about you say ‘hi’ to the nice woman.”

“I don’t bite,” I smiled at her.

The girl shook her head, slapping her hand against the sand she had molded, squashing her sand palace. Then she got up and ran off, splashing into the ocean when the dog decided to join her.

“She’s shy. I’m Betty by the way. And that’s my son, Kyle, and my husband, Michael,” she said, motioning her hand to the Frisbee throwers I had suspected as her husband and son earlier.

“Hi. I’m Leila,” I greeted.

A shrill scream echoing down the shore cut our conversation short. I looked up, trying to catch what was occurring.

“He’s been bitten!” a woman screamed. “Run!” And all around me, people began running, forcing past each other, greedy to get away first and spare their lives. Chaos, I could hardly see anything, the mass of people blocked my view, as they pressed past me, running for the parking lot. But me? I was completely unsure of where to go. My feet were glued to the ground, and I was frozen in shock. California had finally been infected.

I peered through the crowd, seeing what the fuss was of. The man was drenched in blood, from the waist down, covering his swim trunks. He limped after a young woman, bearing his fang-like teeth. He was still a while away from me, I still had some small amount of time.

“Kyle!” Betty screamed next to me. “Get to the boat house!”

And I decided that’s where I would go, too. But as I ran to my destination, I looked back, watching Betty slowly make her way to the boathouse, cupping a hand under her belly, pain disabling her face.

“Michael!” Betty cried to her husband. “Michael, where’s Mariah? Find her!”

Michael nodded, looking around for Mariah. “Mariah! Mariah!” he shouted, his voice strained and distressed.

I couldn’t be selfish. Not when this family needed me.

“Betty!” I ran back to her, tripping in the sand. It was like treading water. I caught her outstretched arm, wrapping it around my shoulder. “Let’s get you to the boathouse.”

She smiled at me, reluctantly walking by my side. Only a small group populated the boathouse, which was the size of a double car garage, filled with shelves lined with life jackets and canoes. I turned, looking at the door we had just ran through, watching the beach-goers screaming, running, trying to find a safe hide-away.

My eyes settled on Michael, trying to persuade Mariah to come with him. I swallowed, tears pricking my eyelids as I stared in horror.

Mariah was pointing at their dog. The cute golden retriever that had pranced around, sneakily stealing the red Frisbee when it rolled out of reach of the father and son? She was now approaching Mariah, fangs bared, dripping saliva and blood. Bright purple eyes and a vast gash in her hip featured on the body. She was a Reigh, who must have been bitten by the man spotted earlier.

“Mariah! Come away from there. Don’t touch Rusty. Come to Daddy!” Michael called, his voice pleading. “I have cookies in the car. With M&M’s. Just how you like them.”

Mariah totted to her dad, her arms extended out, forgetting all about the pup. But at Mariah’s abrupt movement, Rusty lunged at her.

I hopped in front of Betty and the act playing out in front of us. I couldn’t let her see it. I couldn’t let her see her daughter tattered to bits by the appalling monster. The dog had launched up, ripping the skin off Mariah’s forearm. Crimson sprouted from the wound. Rusty then proceeded to tearing the flesh from Mariah’s face. She was still screaming, attempting to jolt the retriever off, but failing. I had to turn away from the gory outlook. Mariah’s cries continued, before dying down, mixing with silence. But it wasn’t completely silent; the screams of Betty reached my ears.

Michael started running back, but a woman, with a fresh bite, chased him as he frantically sprinted to the door of the boat shelter. But before he could reach it, a burly man closed the small wooden door, blocking him out. Michael screamed, banging on the door, and a dragging noise sounded.

“You bastard! That was my husband!” Betty hollered, pushing past the man, fumbling with trembling fingers to open the doorknob. The burly man shoved her aside, holding a strong hand on the door. “I’m sorry. We don’t want anyone to get hurt. It’s for the best.”

Betty sobbed, sliding down the wall. “No!” she cried, burying her face in her hands. “Why, God? Why me? Leila, what can I do?” She latched her fingers around my arm.

I shook my head. “There’s nothing you can do,” I whispered. Nothing at all.